Reservations
by Goose41
Summary: Reservation (res·er·va·tion) - noun \ˌre-zər-ˈvā-shən\ 1) an arrangement to have something (such as a room, table, or seat) held for your use at a later time 2) a feeling of doubt or uncertainty about something


**Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, except for the bartender. He's mine.**

**Author's note: Just a quick pick me up while I sort out some plot-line for _Distance_; I figured we could all use a little sunshine. Enjoy!**

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Perched upon a cushioned stool in the middle of the crowded bar, Angie sat facing the small stage, flicking at an invisible speck of lint on the front of her ensemble. Despite the calm, cool shade of steel blue, the hard-edged detective still felt little at ease in the ensemble. What she wouldn't give to be back home in a cozy pair of sweats and faded department tee lounging around on this rainy Saturday night.

Fortunately, the mastermind behind this whole evening had taken pity on her already nervous victim and settled on a casual V-neck dress with cap sleeves – none too revealing, but still enough to leave Angie feeling vulnerable. She just needed to take a moment to unwind, otherwise she would never be able to even remotely enjoy the evening ahead.

"Never again," she muttered to herself.

"I'm sorry, did you say something, ma'am?" inquired the baby faced gentleman behind the bar.

Pinching the stem of the glass, she brought the wine flute to her lips and took a small sip before setting it back down to the smooth surface of the bar. Smirking to herself, she turned to the barman; "My apologies. And yes, I happened to be reminding myself to never fall for conniving schemes devised by wicked red-headed doctors. Seriously; they can't be trusted."

The barman smiled back as he polished the tumbler in his hand before returning the glass to its proper home. Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he spread his palms wide across the dark cherry wood of the bar as he leaned forward. "Rough night, Miss?"

Bringing her elbows to rest upon the hardened surface and her head to rest upon her right hand with fingers threading through her blonde curls, Angie let out a rather unladylike snort. "Uh, yeah, that's one way of looking at it. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say that it hasn't exactly gone according to plan."

"And why would you say that?" he pushed with great care.

"Well, I was supposed to enjoy a nice evening with a charming gentleman, enjoying savory seafood followed by decadent deserts. Now you seem like a bright young man, so tell me; do you see a handsome companion next to me? Do you see me enjoying said magnificent cuisine?"

Looking upon her intently as she vented her frustrations, his attention was momentarily broken by the chime of the bell above the door. Bringing his gaze back down to the woman before him, he allowed the compassion he felt for the stranger to dance across his features. He watched as the woman dropped her eyes down to her fingers as she quietly fidgeted with the napkin square beneath the wine glass before fixing his eyes on a familiar patron who had just entered the bar over her downcast head.

Releasing an exasperated sigh, the woman brought her dampened gaze back to his own gaze. Sniffling for a moment, she voiced her insecurities after a minute; "Sometimes, I just want to know why, you know?"

And in that heartbreakingly honest moment, he knew; he knew that she wasn't asking about the moron that had stood her up on based on someone else's harebrained idea of serendipity, but someone special who personified what she defined as love.

"God knows I'm not perfect, but how hard is it to love someone instead of focusing on their flaws?" she implored. Laughing wistfully, she drained the glass in front of her before searching through her clutch for some bills to cover the tab.

"Thanks for lending an ear," she spoke quietly, blindly reaching over to the stool next to her to gather her shawl.

A warm hand lifted the object in question toward her, as a gravelly voice connected to the arm spoke in her ear from behind effectively stilling her movements; "When you love someone, you love them in addition to their flaws."

Turning to face the source of declaration, Angie settled her gaze upon the sheepish grin painted across the face of her best friend. "Oscar…?"

"Yeah," he spoke gently. "I would have been here sooner, but you know…my partner had to go home early so she could get all gussied up for some date, or something like that. We couldn't both cut out early since someone had to stay and finish paperwork."

Angie lightly punched him in the shoulder. Smoothing her hands up over his chest and around his shoulders, Oscar responded in turn by gently placing his hands on her hips, fingering the downy fabric of her dress. Bringing his forehead down to rest on hers, she closed her eyes and threaded her fingers through the curls on the back of his neck when he spoke once again; "Hey, Ang? I was kind of wondering, if maybe you might be interested in…you know…going out on a date with me?"

Cool azure orbs connected with soft mocha as Angie released a throaty chuckle.

"I think that can be arranged."

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**There you go, guys. Hope this will hold you over for a bit.  
**

**Questions/Comments/Suggestions? You know where to find me. Much happiness, folks!**


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